“Yeah, yeah. The valley.” Muradoii is already bursting into a youthful lope, the anticipation of a hunt arming her limbs to break heavier drifts. Fel winds scrape down the ridge, carrying crisp odors of slate and pine. Further below, the valley spreads like a pale chalice, mist hanging thick and low in its belly.
From a higher ledge she descends, landing heavily in the powdered sedge and shooting her glittery red challenge back at the old man.
“Just try not to break a hip coming down.”
From a higher ledge she descends, landing heavily in the powdered sedge and shooting her glittery red challenge back at the old man.
“Just try not to break a hip coming down.”
